Reunited Once More
by sykron
Summary: After centuries, Arthur is finally allowed to see Alfred again on the condition that he comes to Panem during the Hunger Games. The changes of the once great nation shock him to no end, but it's the changes in Alfred that gets him the most.


A/N: In honor of Catching Fire coming out (even if it was a few days ago), I decided to finally finish this certain fic that's been in my computer for a little over a year. There's a few spoilers for the book (well, if you count the winner of the 50th Hunger Games a spoiler) and most likely a few inconsistencies, so don't read if you feel this will bother you.

Besides that, I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

Arthur gazed tiredly at the scene below him. The land had changed so much that he could hardly recognize it. The states-no, they were no longer called that- the districts were in total disarray. They were so small and fragile that Arthur wasn't sure how they have survived for the last 50 years. Then again, it was probably the Capitol that made them live this long. If the districts were to die out, then who would provide their bloody, messed up entertainment?

He watched as the train (_oh, how he missed his bullet trains_) travelled through all the districts slow enough for Arthur to get a proper look at the people. He was still crossing District 8, but District 12 seemed the worst out of all (not including the nuclear wasteland of 13) but it wasn't like the other districts were faring remarkably better. Actually, District 12 had a kind of freedom that the other districts could only imagine of. The kind of freedom that reminded him slightly of what once was.

There was a purpose to this visit. He had only told the president (_how that man received that title Arthur would never know_) that he wished to see _him_. Normally, President Snow would refuse the request and then abruptly hang up on him but something made him change his usual answer. He had allowed Arthur to visit for a few days on the condition that he came during a specific time. It had confused him for a while until the realization hit him hard.

Arthur turned his head to the large screen connected to one of the walls of the train cart. The screen had turned on by itself and displayed the seal of the Capitol (_he missed the red and white stripes and 50 stars)_ for a few seconds. The seal was soon replaced with an arena of some sorts that resembled a forest. There were 48 teenagers standing on metal plates in a circle. Arthur felt sick once the enthusiastic voice of the announcer uttered the reason he was allowed to enter the Capitol.

"Ladies and gentleman! Let the second quarter quell of the Hunger Games begin!"

The next few days passed remarkably slow. England's hands trembled in horror and anger as he witnessed the deaths of so many children (_they were children for God's sake!_)_. _Could the Capitol really be so heartless that they would send their own _bloody children_ to a place to kill each other? Of course they weren't. No children from the Capitol were participating, only the district's. It was a reminder to them that they must obey the Capitol or something far worse than the games would occur. It was entertainment. Punishment. A warning.

This was why Snow allowed him to come. He wanted to see England's face when he had figured out the reason for his _generosity. _It was true that the games were made to keep the districts in constant fear so they wouldn't overthrow the Capitol, but it was also a threat. An international one.

Arthur could practically hear the words. _If you dare to try to interfere with us, you and the others will end up worse than them. We have the power to control anyone and everyone. You are only allowed to see him because no matter what you say, it is already too late. _

When the axe the young girl had thrown missed its target and fell over the cliff, Arthur stood up. He had enough. If the damn television could not be turned off, then he was going to fucking punch it until it was broken down into its basic components. He had just raised his fist when the something caught his attention. The young man, Haymitch, he believed he was called, was about to have his life ended when the axe came hurdling out from the cliff and land right in the middle of the other tribute's head. She fell down, instantly dead. A moment of silence passed where not even the announcer could find the right words to say before the young man from District 12 was declared the winner. He had no smile, no content look on his face. Only his eyes showed his true feelings.

So there were still fighters in the districts after all. Arthur thought they had all perished in the bombing of District 13. There must be more, but they're too afraid to act. They didn't have to act now, though. Just their negative thoughts of the Capitol and their way of life will be enough to keep _his_ feelings of freedom alive. Their predecessors have done so and so can they.

Arthur arrived at the Capitol the day the victor's celebration was to be broadcasted. He could hardly contain his relief when the attendant told him that they have arrived.

The attendant guided him to the exit of the train where a man with striking purple hair and gold eyes greeted him. The man nodded politely at him before leading Arthur to the part of the Capitol that held the fancier houses and apartments. It was an awkward walk, what with neither of them attempting to converse with the other, but it was short. Soon, the man stopped in front of a large building that resembled a hotel.

The man handed Arthur a golden key with the Capitol's seal embedded, "Put this into the hole of the elevator." He said before walking away. Arthur scowled at the other man's rudeness but didn't verbally lash out at him like he normally would. Instead, he walked toward the glass elevator and felt pleased when the doors opened to reveal no one inside. He entered the contraption and pushed the key in to the only keyhole he saw. Automatically, the doors shut and a small screen showed the number 0704 in bright green. Arthur felt a small pang at the numbers but not of grief. More like nostalgia.

The doors opened to a hallway that only had one door that was right across from the elevator. Arthur headed towards the pale blue door and took in a deep breath before knocking gently. His heart skipped a beat when a voice (_the voice he missed so dearly and dreamt of for decades)_ told him to come in. Arthur turned the knob and opened the door slowly and carefully.

The back of a man with wheat blonde hair that had a streak of blue running through the left side was the first thing Arthur focused on. The beautiful and grand room didn't seem to register in his thoughts at all. The young man seemed to be staring out into the city from his balcony and didn't even turn around to see who had entered his room.

"After you're done cleaning the room, get me a cup of coffee and a donut. I don't care which flavor just get any. Oh, and remember to stay out of my closet. I know you're a maid and all but stay away."

Arthur was confused. He had expected for Alfred to sound tired, angered, depressed, any sort of emotion that someone in his situation would feel. However, he didn't sound like his normal self either. It may have been three centuries since they last had a proper conversation but Arthur still remembered the confidence and cheerfulness that radiated from his voice whenever he spoke. The past Alfred always looked at the person in the eye (_with his sapphire colored eyes that could brighten his day_) and made sure to speak loud enough so that everyone could hear his voice. The Alfred Arthur was currently seeing had the same accent and voice but it lacked the warmth and happiness that was always associated with it.

Alfred may look normal on the outside but Arthur wasn't reassured that he was fine on the inside.

Arthur gently closed the door and locked it (_the maid that Alfred was waiting for would just have to leave him be for today_) and looked around the spacious apartment. The entire floor consisted of cream colored tiles that somehow complemented the dark blue walls. To Arthur's right, there were two doors and a small hallway that led to another door while the left side had one door and another hallway. The space in between had couches in a variety of colors, a small table with nothing on it, and the balcony, which was right across from the door. That was it. The rest of the space was empty. There was nothing personal in the room that led Arthur to believe that Alfred called this place _home._

Arthur walked slowly towards the balcony, analyzing Alfred as much as he could. His body looked as strong as ever (at least from the outside, but then again who knew what injuries were behind those clothes?) and he seemed to have lost weight, but not much for Arthur to worry. He couldn't get a good look of his face since Alfred was still not facing him (_honestly,_ Arthur thought, _is this how he treats his help now? He was raised better!_) but that was about to change.

He stopped a few steps behind Alfred and gently put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred stiffened slightly at the touch for less than a second before relaxing into it. He turned around with a sigh. "Did you need-"His eyes (_after all these years they were still the same sapphire shade_) widened as he took in who was behind him," -something." He finished breathlessly. Arthur said nothing, being too caught up in seeing his (_ex-brother, enemy, ally, best friend, lover_) face. Alfred still had the slight baby fat that made him look so young and even though Nantucket had gotten curlier, it still stood up rebelliously on Alfred's head. His eyes had changed though. It was true that they were the same color he's had ever since he was a colony but they seemed older, exhausted, had expected as much, though. It would be surprising if Alfred hadn't changed after everything that's happened.

The room was deathly silent as the two nations continued to stare at each other for what seemed like hours. Then finally, Alfred slowly raised one of his hands and slapped himself hard. Arthur jumped at the sudden action and opened his mouth to speak but Alfred beat him to it.

"I'm dreaming." It was whispered almost desperately. His eyes never left Arthur's, even when his entire frame started to shake. "This is another dream. It has to be. You can't be here. You're supposed to be-" Alfred cut himself off along with the eye contact he had with Arthur and continued to murmur things. Most of the things whispered so low were along the lines of _"the damage was too severe" _and _"no one else survived." _It sent a shiver down Arthur's spine. Why was Alfred saying such things? It was almost as if…

He paled. There was no way that bastard of a president would stoop so low as to…

"Alfred." His voice seemed to stop the thoughts spinning in the other's head for a short time. Alfred turned to look at him as if he were a ghost that came to get his revenge (_and if the theory is correct, then that's exactly what he was thinking_). Arthur made a move to step closer to him but the movement startled Alfred as if he was a small rabbit and Arthur was the hunter going in for the kill. Alfred backed away until his back met the wall on the other side of the room. He stared at Arthur wearily and it made him cringe just how Alfred was looking at him. It reminded him of how he was looked at during the first revolutionary war.

"You're not him. He's gone. All of them are. " So what Arthur had thought was true. In some way, Alfred had been deceived into thinking that the other nations and him had been annihilated and he was the only remaining nation left. He wanted to scream and laugh. The idea that _Alfred_ would be the only nation to live through that horrible time was amusing and a bit insulting. Did he honestly think that Arthur would disappear that easily? He wanted to smack Alfred for ever underestimating the former British Empire but these weren't the circumstances nor the time.

He tried his best to calm his racing heartbeat and took a small step forward. Arthur ignored the way his heart ached when Alfred flinched. Instead he focused on making his voice soothing as possible so as to not frighten him more than he already was. "Alfred, love, you're misunderstanding the situa-"

"This isn't a misunderstanding!" The sudden change of volume made Arthur pause in his words and he came in contact with furious blue eyes. "I know exactly what's going on! This is another of Snow's fucked up methods of torture. It's always the same damn thing. _You_ come in and act like _him_ and when I finally, _finally_ think that it's actually him-" Alfred stopped himself but the pained look in his eyes was all Arthur needed to know. He felt his heart break for the man (_times were much simpler when he was only a small child that could hide in his arms_) he cared for and a wave of guilt hit him. He should have come sooner, Snow and his _permission_ and his threats be damned. Perhaps Alfred would have been saved from the mental abuse he was put through and their reunion would have been so heartwarming that, if Hollywood were still standing, it would have been put to shame.

Things didn't always end like his fairytales though. Since Arthur could first remember, there have always been instances-more than instances, actually- of the hero not being able to save his princess. Not everything was meant to have such a happy ending. Nations such as him and Alfred were especially bound by this. There was never such a thing as being completely happy for them. Content, yes, but happy? The burdens of being a nation and being bounded by ones people made that almost impossible.

Arthur was no hero. He didn't have the noble qualities that made up one. Heroes only existed in comic books. They were fictional, fake, _made up_. However…

Arthur took the last few strides to where Alfred was and embraced him.

…if Alfred needed a hero, then he would be one.

* * *

Alfred stiffened as the pair of oh so familiar arms wrapped around him and brought the Arthur lookalike closer to him. The other doppelgangers had done many things to him but never had they touched him in such an intimate way. Snow was more malicious than he thought.

"Let go of me." He said harshly. He tried to struggle out of the embrace without using too much of his strength-fake or not, it still looked like Arthur- but the lookalike would not let go. Alfred clenched his fists. He never enjoyed harming any of the lookalikes but sometimes that was the only way they would leave. It was not enough for them to break him. They had to watch his breakdown as well. "Let me go or I'll-!"

"America." Alfred stopped in his tracks and stared wide eyed at the blond man holding him. He had not heard that name in centuries. There was absolutely no one in the capital or the districts who remembered that name- that he was sure of. Which meant that the person holding him couldn't be another fake. It was actually…

"…England?" His voice cracked at the name.

"It's been quite some time since I've been called that, but yes, love, it's me." Arthur backed away just enough so he could get a good look on Alfred's face, a small smile on his face. "Hello, Alfred."

Tears spilled down Alfred's cheeks as he pulled Arthur back into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. Arthur blinked back the water in his own eyes, though there were a few tears that managed to fall down his cheeks, and held him.

* * *

Arthur was not quite sure how long they stood there and it didn't matter to him. Hearing Alfred cry his heart out was enough to keep him standing there forever if he had to. They had sunk to their knees after some time, yet Alfred refused to loosen his grip on him. His sobs had quieted down to the occasional sniffling. Arthur could feel Alfred mutter a few things against his neck, but they were incomprehensible to him so he thought nothing of them. He continued rubbing a hand up and down Alfred's back and hoped that it was calming the other.

Eventually, he felt Alfred pull back slightly. His arms were still around him and their faces were mere centimeters apart, but the thing that grabbed Arthur's attention was the pure relief that swum in Alfred's eyes. "I still can't believe it…" Alfred's voice was hoarse and just above a whisper, but with their close proximity it was no trouble hearing him. "All these years, I thought…they told me that everyone…" Alfred choked up and Arthur gently cupped his cheek and rubbed small circles on the skin. He felt Alfred relax just the slightest bit. "I was so scared that everyone-" He stopped himself and shut his eyes to try to keep any more tears from spilling out, but a few ended up streaming down his face.

"Oh, love." Grief washed over Arthur in waves. All he wanted to do at this moment was take Alfred away from this horrible place that had tortured him for who knows how long, wrap his arms around him, and never let him go. That was impossible at this time though, but seeing the emotional state Alfred was in made him determined to make that a reality one day. Alfred deserved better than this.

"What happened to everyone?" A fearful look passed over Alfred's eyes. "A-Are they…?"

"The war took its toll on all of us." Arthur said grimly. "Some more than others. I don't know the situation in the other regions, but Europe, ah, or what used to be Europe that is, is recovering. Slowly, but we're pulling through. Though there are some of us who…" Arthur trailed off. He didn't need to finish. He knew Alfred would know.

Alfred let out a shuddering sigh. "Yeah, I sort of figured that last part. Is Matthew…?"

Arthur inwardly flinched but thankfully it had not shown on his face. He knew it wouldn't be long until Alfred asked about his brother. Before the war had begun, Matthew had gone to visit him to talk about the increasing tensions between a few countries. It had only been a day since Matthew's arrival when the bombs began to hit. It took decades for several nations to contact others and group together, and by then contact with the North American continent was impossible. Alfred had not seen his brother in centuries. "He's alive…" Arthur started off, and before the look on Alfred's face could make him change his mind, he added," but he's been asleep since the war has ended."

Alfred sucked in a breath and grabbed Arthur tighter, but showed no other signs of grief beyond that. He must have expected something far worse, Arthur thought. "He's alive though?" He asked weakly.

"He's breathing." Arthur confirmed.

Alfred breathed a sigh in relief. "It's much better than what I thought. You're taking care of him?"

"Of course." Arthur said. "Though Gilbert is caring for him in my absence. He'll wake up soon, love. He's becoming restless these days."

"That sounds like Mattie." Alfred chuckled softly. Then he brought Arthur into another hug, gently resting his head on the other's shoulders. "God I missed you." He mumbled, the puffs of breath tickling Arthur's neck the slightest bit.

Arthur immediately reciprocated, trying his best not to cry again. "I missed you, too."

"How long are you…?"

"Until the end of the _festivities_." Arthur spat the last word out- still disgusted that such a thing even existed. He felt Alfred stiffen, which meant that the festivities would not last much longer. Arthur opened his mouth to ask how much time that left them, but it seemed Alfred sensed this and beat him to it.

"Three days." Alfred sighed, disappointing clearly written on his face. He thought it fortunate Arthur couldn't look at him at the moment.

"Alfred, I-"

"Can we just please not talk about this right now?" Alfred requested a little desperately, eyes shut close to prevent the new wave of tears threatening to spill over. "I just really want to hold you right now Arthur. It's been centuries since I last did it."

Arthur nodded and brought Alfred even closer, placing a gentle kiss on his neck.

The two stayed there for hours, the sound of celebration below them completely ignored for the time being.

* * *

Even if it had been centuries since he'd last seen Alfred, it had taken less than a day with him to notice the changes.

His personality was more subdued than it was long ago. Where there would normally be a laugh or grin was a small, tightlipped smile. And though his eyes would usually always be looking at Arthur, there were times where they were looking right _through_ him, as if Alfred was looking at something that was not there. It worried Arthur to no end, especially after Alfred would snap out of it and then cling to him like he would disappear any minute.

In the evenings, Alfred would lean on the railing of the balcony and stare out into the Capitol. He would stare blankly at all the lights and fireworks and cheers until the screen inside his room showing whatever special about the winning tribute was over. Sometimes Arthur would join him, if only to get away from the cruel reality being displayed in front of him.

Arthur did not get much sleep in the days he spent with Alfred. It was hard to when Alfred would constantly toss and turn from nightmares and would then wake up with tears in his eyes. Arthur would hold him for hours and whisper calming words to the other until the other fell back asleep, holding onto Arthur in the way he used to when he was a scared little colony seeking safety in Arthur's bed.

Arthur tried to not think whether these were nightly occurrences. He wasn't sure he would be able to leave the next day if that were the case.

* * *

"You don't have to leave, you know."

Arthur tore his gaze away from the balcony's view and looked at Alfred wearily. Someone was due to come for him in a few hours to take him to the train station, where he would take it passed District 12 and to the ocean. A ship would be waiting for him to take him back to his land. He had mentioned these details to Alfred on their first day, but the blond had not said anything about it. Well, until now.

"Alfred." Arthur started. "You know just as well as I that I can't."

"But you're not hurting anyone here!" Alfred insisted, taking a hold of Arthur's hand in a rough grip. He could feel Alfred's hand trembling. "I can show you around and find some tea for you. If we just talk to Sn-"

"_Alfred_!" Alfred immediately stopped talking and looked at the floor to hide his expression. Arthur gently coaxed his hand out of Alfred's so he could cup Alfred's cheeks and wipe away the tears. "I can't stay. My people need me and as do the other very few avatars left in this world. If there was any other way-"

"I know." Alfred sniffled. "Our people come first, that's always how it has to be. That's why, no matter how much I really want to, I can't go with you either. The people in the Capital and the Districts are mine, you know? I can't just abandon them, no matter how much I want to sometimes."

"They're not all bad." Arthur reassured him. "That recent victor of yours has that same look in his eyes as you do."

"Is this your way of telling me I look miserable?" Alfred almost pouted, but the hurt he felt of thinking Arthur thought that prevented him from doing so.

"No, you idiot." Arthur tsked and lightly slapped one of his cheeks. "I was talking about your stubbornness. Your people have always had that trait, as they do now. It's what allows them to make it through the toughest obstacles." A smile. "That's why I have no doubt that we'll see each other again. It might take years, centuries even, but we'll meet again. We always do."

"You're still such a romantic." A few more tears fell down Alfred's face, but he ignored them as he leaned forward to press his lips against Arthur's.

When the dreaded knock on the door was heard a few hours later, they shared one last embrace before Arthur was escorted out of Alfred's life once more.

* * *

When they did see each other again, Alfred, with the most cheerful grin he had worn in a long time, ran up to Arthur and tackled him into a bone-crushing hug that Arthur full heartily returned. They did not let go of each other for hours, because they no longer had to.


End file.
